Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to wonder if there’s an underground society of beardless men somewhere looking to publicly destroy their hirsute nemeses with these endless surveys and whispering campaigns. Why are they even happening in the first place? Are they planting surreptitious seeds to subconsciously leak messages into your brain?

I’ve got a beard, and here’s a fact that could blow this whole thing wide open: I’m definitely not sexist. Not even remotely. Some of my very best friends have got boobs, and only one of those is a guy. And I’m not out for one thing either, I want about three things (one of which is unconditional love).

Anyway, as with all hipsters who doth protest too much about not being hipsters, I first grew my beard about fifteen years ago before it was even cool (which obviously makes it considerably cooler than we first thought), and the main thing I noticed was how it made me feel.

In a physical sense it itched like being necked by a porcupine, or perpetually tickled by a thousand little needles. But there was a shift on a psychological level, too. Like spotting your first pube, or your voice suddenly breaking overnight, growing a beard made me feel like I was somehow more of a man.

Contrary to what these ridiculous studies might suggest, this didn’t manifest itself in a sudden upsurge of draconian views and values. Rather, it gave me an extra boost of confidence.

I was in my early 20s, I’d moved to London, wide-eyed and feeling like a fish out of water. Growing a beard felt like a statement of intent. I’d conformed to an old gender stereotype linked with masculinity, and I felt like I was telling the world that I’d arrived, I had a beard, possibly a hairy chest, and almost certainly medium-sized hairy balls.

Lots of my female friends absolutely hated it, some were curious about it, my boss back then was very vocal about how she couldn’t stand the sight of it. BUT – and here’s the really interesting bit – almost all of my male friends and colleagues gave it the thumbs up. They loved it.

At the time (this being the early 2000s), we’d been bombarded with metrosexual role models like David Beckham and Brad Pitt (who both, interestingly, have since grown beards), but we didn’t want to moisturise our T-zones or get our backs, sacks and cracks waxed. Having a beard felt like a counter-punch to the femininising wave of new men. We scruffed ourselves up.

David Beckham sported a pony tail while at Real MadridCredit:
PA

Symbolically, we were reclaiming our prehistoric fur, calling back to a time when notions of masculinity were less complex. But more than that, we were just doing it for simple fashion reasons. It hadn’t had a blast of sunshine since the 70s and now the hairy face was back in a big way.

And that’s the point – growing or trimming a beard is just the fashion. Not a social or political message. Not the bushy manifestation of your views on equality, or your feelings about feminism.

Joshua Burt today

Globally, the beard may have long been associated with more orthodox religions, or with Victorian dads and their conservative views, but that’s just skewing the reality. Growing a beard changes nothing but the texture of your face – and like bikes, coffee or sickly craft beers, it’s just another part of the vague cloud of relatively kitsch things that make up the modern image-conscious male.